Chapter Fourteen
FOURTEEN
Callahan
Annie above me. Annie beside me. Annie under me. Somehow she’s everywhere at once, everywhere I need her. Taking control, yielding it. Saying my name, over and over. Cal. Cal.
“Cal!”
My eyes spring open at the sound of the very real voice intruding into my dream. Annie remains sound asleep on my shoulder, which is, incidentally, also asleep. That means that the woman calling my name must be Genevieve, finally here to rescue us.
I shrug, trying to nudge Annie awake. “Hey. Wake up. Genevieve is here.”
“Mrrr,” she groans, nuzzling into me even more. The pins and needles sensation in my shoulder aches, erasing some of the gratification her closeness might otherwise make me feel.
“Come on, Annie. Time to get up.”
This is met only with the measured breathing of someone who has already returned to deep sleep. Great.
Using my free hand, I push against Annie until she’s upright, then slide out of the way.
I intend to let her fall back into place on the mattress, but instead she tilts in the opposite direction.
Before I can grab her, she’s rolled over, off the bed entirely.
She lets out a little shriek, waking up in the split second before she hits the ground.
“Ow,” she whines, sitting up and rubbing her elbow.
Genevieve enters the bedroom to find me on all fours on the bed, staring down at Annie in a groggy heap on the floor.
“Um, hello,” she says. “Am I…interrupting something?”
“No, just…” My back protests as I jump off the too-firm mattress where my watch tells me I’ve been sleeping sitting up but slumped over for the last seven hours. “Ah. We’ve been here all night,” I tell Genevieve, though I’m sure she’s already aware.
“I am sorry about that. Makayla had to leave in a hurry after her babysitter called to say her daughter had developed a high fever. She must have thought you both already left and set the alarm without thinking about it.”
“Yeah, but I called you at least six times,” I say, trying not to sound too annoyed.
“I know, but I only saw that this morning when I woke up. I was sleeping off a migraine and had my phone set to ‘do not disturb.’ Again, I apologize.”
Annie props herself against the nightstand, eyes still narrowed in sleepiness. Somehow knowing this about her—that she’s slow to wake up—feels like an incredible discovery. Like I’ve collected another tiny charming piece out of the hundreds that make up the full set of Annie O’Neill.
“Did you find what you were looking for, at least?” Genevieve asks, glancing around the room.
“No,” Annie says, propping a hand on the mattress in order to lift herself up. “It wasn’t here.”
“Is there anywhere else it could be?” I ask. “Another property, maybe?”
Genevieve’s short auburn bob somehow remains completely still as she shakes her head.
“This is the only property we’re staging this week.
So if it isn’t here, the only other place it could be is on the truck still.
That happens sometimes, when there’s a piece we can’t fit or otherwise don’t want to use.
We just leave it in the truck until it’s time to return everything to Virtu. ”
“Where is the truck?” Annie asks. “Can we check it?”
Genevieve sets her purse down on the armchair in the corner and digs around until she finds a business card.
She hands it to me: Marvin’s Moving, it says in dark green ink with a clip art stack of boxes in the corner.
“We partner with Marvin Johnson for all of our staging. I’m sure he’ll be able to assist you if you give him a call. ”
“Thanks,” I say, pocketing the card, a hint of relief creeping in now that we’re once again on the road toward tracking down our taxidermy nightmare.
“Now, I don’t mean to be rude since I know you had no control over the matter,” Genevieve says, looking around the room again, “but you made quite a mess in here.” Other than flattened pillows, wrinkles on the bedspread from where Annie and I slept, and a few absent oranges, I don’t spot anything amiss, but Genevieve continues, “I’m going to have to completely redo this room before the open house.
And have Makayla stop for more fruit. So if you wouldn’t mind vacating… ”
“With pleasure,” Annie grumbles.
“I trust you can show yourselves out?”
We eventually manage to find the front door and emerge into the pale early morning sunlight, where my Suburban still waits off to the side of the driveway behind a screen of boxwoods.
The journey back into Baltimore proper is quiet beyond Annie muttering about how she needs coffee. I make a quick stop at a RoFo along the way and grab her a cup. The transformation is immediate after the first sip—another tiny charming piece to add to my collection of knowledge about her.
“Sorry if I drooled on you,” she says, cradling the paper coffee cup as if it’s her most treasured possession.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s fine? You’re supposed to say I didn’t drool at all. That I slept like an absolute perfect and beautiful angel with no indication that I even possess bodily fluids.”
“I think it’s too early in the morning for the phrase ‘bodily fluids,’ ” I say, stopping at a red light. I take the opportunity to sip my own coffee and try to drown out the sudden memories of the dream I was having right before Genevieve arrived.
I drop Annie off at Harold’s house so she can get ready for work; we’re due at Virtu in a few hours. Her heavily creased dress rides high on her thighs as she slides out of the passenger seat and onto the sidewalk. Before she closes the door, she turns back to me and says, “Thank you, by the way.”
“For getting you trapped inside a mansion?”
“For trusting me with so many of your truths. It’s nice to understand you better.”
“Oh. Well. Sure. Same to you.”
“See you in a bit,” she says. And the promise of that perks me up more than all the caffeine in the world.